Dune to Death Read Online Free Page A

dune buggy accident except for a headache and a slight stiffness in her back.
    Briefly, she assessed the stairways that led up from the beach on each side of Pirate’s Lair’s narrow wooden set. Those belonging to the We See Sea Resort were concrete, with landings and benches about every twenty steps. The Best Ever Over the Waves Motel boasted a tram. Judith was tempted, but assumed it probably came out in the lobby or some other place where a nonguest could be easily spotted. She resigned herself to the return climb and set about the business of clamming.
    The breeze felt fresh on her cheeks and the sound of the ocean was music to her ears. Some ten yards from the staircase, nestled at the foot of the bluff, stood the old boathouse, of a much older vintage than the cottage. The little structure obviously had been neglected and was apparently unused. Or so Judith assumed until she saw a man’s silhouette in the small murky window. Judith paused and frowned. The confirmation letter that she had received from Mrs. Hoke had stated that everything on the property was at the newlyweds’ disposal, including the beach rights which permitted clam digging and the building of a fire under safe circumstances. There had followed a couple of paragraphs of legalese which Judith now found incongruous with the flighty, disorganized, Alice Ogilvie Hoke. But of course her landlady had probably sought a lawyer’s advice when it came to renting the cottage. Should Mrs. Hoke be informed that someone was inside the boathouse? Judith considered, then shrugged. With or without Joe, she was on her honeymoon. As long as whoever it was didn’t bother her up at Pirate’s Lair, she’d ignore the interloper. Judith had had enough of mysterious events in the past year and a half to last her a lifetime.
    The clam harvest was meager. The tiny holes that indicated a clam was close to the surface often proved to be decoys, made by some other sort of sea creature. After an hour, Judith had dug up only a couple of dozen clams, but more than enough to make herself some chowder. The tide was coming in, the kiteflyers were out in force, and the beach was overrun by children building sand castles, youngsters on mountain bikes, dogs fetching sticks, and couples strolling hand in hand. Briefly, Judith felt envious. She and Joe should be out there, kicking at the sand and watching the waves edge ever closer.
    But at least she and Joe finally belonged to each other. Judith smiled at the thought and started up the beach toward the wooden staircase. The stiffness she had noticed earlier had worsened, bringing on a headache. Her bucket seemed heavier with every step and she noticed that she’d skinned her fingers in several places when she’d abandoned the shovel for chasing after her elusive prey with her bare hands. She should have worn gloves.
    Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath. Even living in a four-story house hadn’t prepared her for quite this much exertion. But the view was spectacular. The oceanseemed so vast, so endless, so dominant. A lonely trawler bobbed out on the horizon. How far away, Judith mused? The sun was no longer directly over head, and was now sitting on top of a row of fluffy white clouds. Down on the beach, the vacationers ebbed and flowed like the tide itself. Judith switched the bucket and shovel from one hand to the other, then resumed her ascent. She had reached the next landing when a movement almost directly below caught her eye. It was a bearded man in what appeared to be a baggy sweater and rumpled pants, staring up at her. She could just make out his uneven footprints in the sand. They led from the boathouse.
    â€œBig deal,” she muttered to herself. “At least he’s not carrying out a TV and a VCR.” Judith continued up the steps.
    Back in the garage, she went to put the bucket and shovel where she had picked them up and hoped the garden hose would reach that far so